Going Once
by Foxxed
Summary: For everywhere Kurt had been looking for his long lost mother's dresser, he never thought he would find it at an auction in a small town in Maryland. He also never anticipated the auctioneer to be such a dreamboat.


**Going Once**

Kurt wasn't used to driving himself anymore, having the liberties of company drivers and taxis since his label took off. The rental car he got at Baltimore airport was decent he guessed, but after an hour driving to Stayton he was officially burnt out and just wanted to get it over with.

His trip was purely on impulse, as he decided to leave not even twenty-four hours ago while he was still at the office. After _years_ of searching he finally found the last piece he lost during the worst period of his life. How it ended up in Stayton was a mystery on its own. He was pretty sure he even left the website open on his office's computer before he ran out and yelled at his assistant Ivy he was going on a short business trip, promising he would be back for his surprise birthday party, which hadn't been a surprise in the first place.

With sunglasses balancing on the tip of his nose, he pulled over at _Anderson Antique Auctions_ right off the main street and checked himself in the mirror one last time before getting out. He realized immediately that even though he travelled three hundred miles and is dead tired, he looked a little too city compared to the small town surroundings with his designer coat, high boots and straight posture. Then again: he wasn't planning on staying long.

The moment he swayed open the doors to the auction house a triggering and familiar thrift-shop-esk smell hit him in the face like a lost memory. It had been a while since he searched vintage clothing stores now he had a special member card at Mood for fabrics, but that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the musky air that lingered in the small auction hall.

"Hello?" he asked tentatively – the hall seemed abandoned and vaguely terrifying with all the old furniture, trinkets and decorations. He half expected a ghost to float by, still attached to some of the items on display looking for redemption.

Walking a bit further into the hall, he took off his sunglasses and continued searching for some kind of living being that could help him except it turned out he didn't need the help at all. At the end of one of the many passages throughout the hall was the thing he had been looking for and travelled to from Manhattan to Stayton, Maryland.

His breathing turned funny and eerie as he strode forward as fast as he could without actually running and sat down at the dresser that many years ago belonged to his mother.

"Oh my," he sighed, laying a hand on the smooth wooden furnace. It was in perfect state and identical to the one he had to let go with tears in his eyes – there was no doubt that this was his mother's dresser. "There you are."

"No touching!" A man's voice behind him spoke so suddenly that Kurt jumped up. "At least not until you own it. You need to wear gloves from now on," he added. Kurt pulled his hand back like he got burned and took a moment to take in the man. He was about Kurt's age, sporting well tailored pants with a striped waistcoat and colorful bow tie. Overall with the gelled hair and dreamboat face, the man looked like he belonged in the time where half the furniture was new and not vintage.

"Pardon?"

"The antiques are delicate, so please don't touch them," the man said, politer than before after he raked his eyes over Kurt in one smooth look. He was holding a clipboard, drumming his fingers nervously over the back.

"How much?" Kurt said to get down to business.

"How much what?" The man frowned.

"How much for the dresser?" He tried his best smile. "You do work here, right?"

"What? Yes, I'm Blaine I –"

"How much for the dresser, Blaine?" He tapped his foot in a way he knew was annoying but he couldn't help his nervous tics.

"It's not for sale," Blaine finally blurted out. Kurt couldn't help but snort, cascading his hand an inch over the surface of the dresser, careful not to touch it.

"Everything is for sale for the right price."

"It's up for auction." Blaine looked down to his clipboard. "So you'd have to come to the auction and bid on it."

"I don't have time for that," he said arrogantly, almost ready to pull the 'don't you know how I am'-card he proudly carried. "There has to be an option so I can already purchase it."

"I'm not allowed to reserve it, for anyone really." Blaine's face was showing signs of annoyance as he was obviously biting the inside of his cheek. "The auction is this Saturday, which is only the day after tomorrow?"

"But it's my mother's dresser," Kurt murmured, his heart sinking lower than his stomach.

"Actually it's the library's." Blaine coiled at Kurt's angry look. "It was donated and the money it collects goes to the Stayton Branch Library. The original owner passed away, I believe."

"There has to be a way."

"Look, sir, I'm really sorry, but if you want to buy it you'd have to bid on it during the live auction."

Kurt's lower lip began to tremble, a sign of the past breaking the façade he built up during the last few years and in his moment of panic he put his hand back on the dresser he was so fond of.

"Hey, woah!" Blaine raced forward to practically catch Kurt from collapsing and pulled his hand away from the wood. "Why don't we –" He juggled with Kurt in his arms to retrieve a pocket watch – _of course he has a vintage pocket watch_ – and check the time. "Why don't we get some breakfast at Dodger's and you can tell me about the dresser. You're obviously attached to it."

"What's Dodger's?" Kurt asked skeptically. "And why would you want to know?"

"Because I love a good background story." When Blaine smiled his eyes became all squinty and the crinkles in the corners deeper, it was breathtaking. "And Dodger's a diner, it's not eleven yet so we can get some breakfast, if you'd like."

Without any further preamble, Kurt found himself accepting Blaine's offer.

"Scrambled eggs and toast for Blainey?" The friendly woman from the diner placed the plate in front of a now scarlet-red Blaine.

"Thanks, Mimmi," he murmured, still flushed much to Kurt's amusement.

"And a sunny side up _egg_cellent toast for you." Mimmi smiled and didn't keep her eyes of Kurt. "s'About time Blainey brought someone here – I always told him '_find yourself a handsome young man_', in fact didn't I tell you yesterday, Blainey?"

"That's enough, Mimmi."

"No, for real, I told him that yesterday and here you are!"

"I –" Kurt tried.

"He's just –" Blaine said at the same time, but their words were lost as Mimmi developed a sudden hearing problem.

"Either way, I'm not here to meddle with your personal lives, eh? Enjoy, it's on me." With another obvious wink she left, leaving both Kurt and Blaine mortified and flustered.

"I am so sorry for that," Blaine immediately said to tend the wounds. "She just really looks out for me and well, here in Stayton we're like a little family – me being the weird gay uncle with affinity for pocket watches and bow ties, but –" He silenced after noticing Kurt biting his lip to keep down a snort and the realization daunted: "I am blabbering to a guy I don't even know the name of and met less than forty-five minutes ago."

"Which is really attractive," Kurt half joked, half seriously reassured.

"I'm sure it is." The blush on his cheeks certainly was. Kurt wondered if this is where they kept the handsome, slightly eccentric yet interesting gay men that New York was lacking. "So may I ask for your name so this is a bit less awkward?"

"It's Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine echoed. "Suits you. I'm Blaine, not Blainey mind you. Blaine Anderson."

"Anderson? As in the auction house?"

At the same time they dug into their free breakfast, courtesy of Mimmi. "Yes, Triple A is mine, inherited it really. Kind of ironic, people give me inherited things to sell and I keep the only thing I have ever gotten." Kurt was quite certain he was developing a crush on this weird creature, born in the wrong era that made eating scrambled eggs an art form with the amazing manners he possessed. "Either way we were here to talk about the dresser."

The mention alone made Kurt's appetite vanish. He just couldn't bear the thought that in that auction house was his mother's dresser that he once lost.

"Right."

Blaine gestured with his knife and fork for him to go on. "You said it belonged to your mother, now forgive me for presuming – but how did it end up here as you're obviously not from Stayton."

"I live in New York," Kurt explained. "I look for the dresser almost every week and have alerts out and I ended up on your website." He huffed. "It's really insane how it went from Lima, Ohio to Stayton, Maryland."

Blaine's thick eyebrows shot up. "Ohio?"

"Born and raised, and escaped for that matter."

"Same here, but please go on."

Kurt actually wanted to know more about Blaine, but if this was going to help getting his dresser back he wouldn't mind flirting with the handsome auctioneer and lay out his life story.

"After my senior year of high school, well, things were tough." He picked through the egg yolk, making it spill over the toast. "My dad's garage got bankrupt and well, we had no money left to pay the bills. I lost all prospects of going to college and we had to do everything to keep the claimers away from our house." Shakily he let out a breath. "As you can probably guess, we failed."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Blaine said sincerely.

"I've been making peace with it, as it's been ten years. And I've been buying everything back, the dresser being the last thing."

"Strangely honorable." Blaine cleared his plate and nibbled on the last piece of toast. "So may I ask what you do?"

"I'm a fashion designer, my label took off seven months or so."

Blaine stopped chewing. "You're way out of my league," he breathed.

"Pardon?"

"N-nothing I – so, so where are you staying in good old Stayton?"

Reaching out for his coffee cup Kurt sighed. "I wasn't really planning on staying. I need to get back to New York." He took a sip. "The plan was get the dresser, have it shipped to Manhattan and get back before they celebrate my birthday without me." Kurt saw Blaine contemplating – he just needed one more plead. "Is there really nothing you can do? The dresser is really the last thing I have left of my mother." Blaine stared at him questioningly. "She passed away when I was eight."

The last line seemed to make Blaine deflate completely. "I'm so sorry I –"

"Please, Blaine." Kurt carefully reached for his hand.

"I really can't." Blaine retracted his hand like he was retracting Kurt's heart out of his chest. "It's contracts, legal issues – if you want the dresser, you'd have to bid on it this Saturday." He moved away his hands all together and seemingly folded them on his laps. "I wish I could tell more, but yeah – I'm still the auctioneer."

Kurt shrugged nondescript. "I guess we all have work to do." He slipped his hand into his breast pocket to get his phone. "And a motel to find."

"There's just one off main, if you go the opposite direction of the auction house," Blaine helpfully supplied. "I can take by that you're going to stay?"

"So it would seem."

They had driven to Dodger's with Blaine's car, and he drove him to the motel to check in and back to the auction house so he could get his car back.

"Thank you," Kurt said after Blaine pulled over in front of Triple A.

"Look, again I'm sorry I can't do anything. It was in the will and –"

"I understand, I do." He slipped his fingers in the door handle, cracking the door open. "I guess I'll go work from that shifty motel room and see you on Saturday."

Blaine was drumming his fingers again, this time on the steering wheel. "Actually if you want to escape work for a little while, I have a taxing job at a thrift shop in a close by town." His smile was radiant and hopeful. "You can come along if you'd like."

This was definitely not the business trip Kurt expected when he left yesterday. And he definitely did not expect to meet a handsome, apparent gay, blast from the past named Blaine.

"I'm not sure –" Blaine's face fell, and Kurt took a leap of faith. "- if that motel even has WiFi." The door shut again with a bang. "Let's go?"

The shop Blaine was summoned to really was nearby, only half an hour by car, and all by all – this was strange first date. Or second, if Kurt counted breakfast, and while he was figuring out if it actually was countable he realized these weren't dates. Even though he'd like them to be.

The old smell was heavier in the thrift shop than it was at Blaine's auction house. The woman who ran it knew Blaine just as well as Mimmi, except she was younger – late twenties – and had an obvious crush on Blaine.

"What do you have for me, Andrea?" Blaine asked, leaning over the glass display and perking up his ass rather distractingly for Kurt.

"Just brought in from an estate sale, the old owner was a photographer." Andrea shot another glance at Kurt like she was ready to attack him so he busied himself near the jewelry. "Anyway I took it aside for you."

"Oh wow," Blaine said. Through the towering, ceiling high cabinets, Kurt saw Blaine turning a vintage camera in his hands. "It's in great condition."

"I believe it even still takes pictures."

Kurt droned out Andrea's flirtatious voice. His eye caught a heart locket, the gold slightly faded but the engraved flowers still beautiful. Attached to it was a pocket watch, still ticking softly, showing the incorrect time yet was gorgeous nevertheless.

"See anything you like?" Blaine appeared next to him with a package underneath his arm. "Oh wow." He thumbed over the pocket watch.

"I forgot how much fun thrift shops were. It's the burden you carry when designer stores open the doors for you."

"Well, I'm finished, but you can look around some more."

"I'd love to but, I need to save money for my dresser," Kurt said with a playful wink. "What did you get?"

Blaine looked down to his package. "Hm? Oh, the camera, it's from the 1930's and in a_h_-mazing condition."

"For auction?"

"Um, no," a light blush returned on his cheeks, "it's for me. In case you haven't notice I'm kind of a collector. I have insiders at all the local thrift shops and they give a call whenever something interesting comes in."

"So when you said you had a taxing job you - ?"

"Lied to make me sound less weird."

Kurt leaned in closer in a conspiring way, also because he knew Andrea was watching them. "Your secret is safe with me." Blaine's giggle was the best sound in the world.

"You can window shop some more otherwise?"

"Don't mind if I do."

In the end Kurt bought the pocket watch, just to keep as a memorabilia from his insane trip to Stayton.

On Friday Kurt escaped the motel early in the morning to sit and work at Dodger's. He was happy he at least packed several outfits to sit out a few days, even though he had rather been back in New York by now.

_It's for a good cause_, he mused, _the dresser is within hand reach_. And the dresser wasn't the only thing keeping him grounded in Stayton.

"Good morning," Blaine said like they had been friends for years and slid in the booth across him. Kurt didn't even save his design before closing his laptop to continue his newly found hobby of staring at Blaine.

"Hello." Subtly he lifted his coffee cup to hide his smile.

"Kind of expected you back in the hall, scaring people away from the dresser."

"Why dwell on an item I will have tomorrow while I could be here and enjoy some more _egg_cellent toast?"

"Still confident you're leaving with it, aren't you?"

Kurt shrugged. "Why else would faith send me to Stayton, Maryland?"

"Maybe the _egg_cellent toast?"

"That might be it, yes." Together they laughed, the sounds blending together like wonderful music. Out of nowhere Mimmi placed Blaine's typical breakfast in front of him and pinched his cheek before leaving. Silently Kurt watched him eat with that grace again. "Blaine?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me about you."

Blaine's tongue darted out to lick a bit of jelly from his upper lip. "I think you already know most of me. Blaine Anderson, twenty-seven, auctioneer and avid bow tie wearer."

"Except it seems you belong in a period drama originally broadcasted by the BBC."

"Noticed that, huh?" He reached for the sugar. "No, I uh, settled for less."

"You mean you declined an offer to play a handsome dandy?"

"No, I mean that's who I am. I settled for less." A stain on the table was more worthy of his attention than looking straight at Kurt was. "I grew up in Ohio, too, remarkably. Got taunted a lot, moved around a lot and after high school I got the chance to audition for performing arts schools. I like music a lot, and musicals, performing, dancing – you catch my drift."

"But?"

Blaine let out a sigh. "I chickened out. I was scared to death of not being enough so when the auction hall was offered, I took it straight away. Studied history, antiques and taxing items and I never failed it. I was always enough."

"And was it enough for you?" Somehow Kurt felt himself gravitated toward Blaine.

"I love my work, I love the antiques, and then –" Finally Blaine looked up again. "A successful man from New York blows into your tiny little town with his big city values and career, and – you think you might have had that too if you took a different direction."

"My life isn't perfect," Kurt said gently. "There are still pieces missing."

"Like your mother's dresser?"

"Yes." _But also things you can't touch_, he added in his head. Sure Kurt had it all: amazing house, good career prospects, a slightly broken but loving family and friends. Still he felt like something was missing, and strangely enough he was beginning to feel he found it in Stayton.

Blaine blinked his long lashes, smiling sweetly. "I have work to do, so I won't see you until tomorrow I'm afraid. I'm not allowed to root or play favors, but if I could –" He didn't finish his sentence, instead he squeezed Kurt's hand and left.

"You two make the sweetest couple," Mimmi sighed lovestruck behind the counter.

Kurt simply smiled, keeping the reply he had in mind for himself, because _yes_ they would make the sweetest couple.

On the day of the auction, his assistant Ivy called him nonstop. It was odd because it was a _Saturday_ and he mailed yesterday he was coming back on Monday, his flight on Sunday afternoon already booked. He turned off his phone because after the third try of calling he was getting frustrated while he needed to focus.

Today was the day he would mend his past by getting his mother's dresser back, and considering Stayton was a small town – not really wealthy in Kurt's regard – he reckoned he had a good shot at it. Or at least, that was the feeling he had in the morning when he went up to Triple A. As soon as he walked in to the hall where the auction took place, his heart _sank_. The room was entirely packed with people carrying the same like paper with a number Kurt had, and he suddenly remembered that the parking lot in front of the hall had been filled with cars too.

"Came to watch your man in action, huh?" Mimmi appeared next to him, elbowing his ribs.

"Is it always this crowded?" he asked astonished.

"Anderson Auctions are legendary across Maryland, collectors from all around the state come. Some even out of state." Kurt swallowed so loudly he was sure the entire hall heard. "Either way, it's going to be a slaughter today, more exciting than television, I'll tell ya."

The confidence and courage evaporated out of his body as the auction started and he took his seat. First of all he realized that auctions were confusing as hell and definitely not like the movies. Blaine rambled prizes, overlooking the hall and finding bidders. None of the bidders raised their numbers, which made it impossible for Kurt to find who was actually bidding and he guessed it was that very reason why people only made small gestures. He was sure the woman next to him was bidding on a table by just raising her eyebrows, and Blaine noticed it all.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen," Blaine announced, "The final lot. Antique walnut dresser, manufactured by hand in circa the 1920's." Kurt watched his mother's dresser being rolled onto the stage. "Let's start at 750, shall we?"

Yesterday after Blaine left, Kurt had given himself a speed course in auctions and bidding. If he immediately started to bid, the other bidders would know how much he'd want it and try to build up the price as high as they could. And even though Kurt really wanted it, he still had a budget he couldn't surpass.

"650?" chanted Blaine. "600?" He pointed his hammer to acknowledge a bidder and his eyes shifted to Kurt. The game was on. Kurt nodded and blinked simultaneously. "700, thank you." Blaine went back to the previous bidder. It went back and forth like that until they were getting close to Kurt's budget and Kurt singled out the other bidder, who was a burly man bidding for someone on the phone.

"1800?" Blaine asked Kurt, and his maximum was 2000. He nodded, not realizing it was going to be the last time.

"My client," the burly man suddenly spoke up. "Likes the other bidder to know that they will top whatever is bid." An awkward silence spread across the hall. "And they like to bid 2000 dollars."

"Very well," Blaine said softer than he had spoken the rest of the day. "Does this change things?" He turned to Kurt, who was frozen on the spot staring at the burly man. _Who was he bidding for_. "Otherwise we're selling." Blaine sounded pleadingly, waiting for Kurt to make eye contact again. His head snapped back up and took a deep breath. Twenty years since he lost his mother, ten years since he lost the dresser and one second away from losing it again he forced himself to shake his head. "No?" _Don't make me do it again_. "Alright, 2000 going once, going twice… last chance, everybody," and he meant more or less Kurt instead of everybody. "Sold." He slammed his hammer more forcefully than with the other lots. "Your number, sir?"

Kurt didn't stick around to watch his mother's dresser fall into the wrong hands and left the hall. Defeated and tired he sat on the stairs in front of the showroom of Triple A. He couldn't believe he came all the way out to freaking _Stayton_ for nothing.

He hadn't cried openly since the opening show of his label, and those were tears of happiness, but at this moment he felt like crying buckets because of the loss. Time went by as he sat there on the stone steps, the parking lot emptying out and people leaving with their new purchases.

In the distance the sun began to set right at the same time a tear rolled down his cheek. He was absolutely exhausted.

Quietly someone sat down next to him, and he didn't even have to look up to know it was Blaine. "I don't know what to say," he whispered, laying his hand on the plane of his shoulder. "I couldn't tell if they were bluffing or – or if it was a strategy."

"What done is done," Kurt said and arched into Blaine's touch like a cat. "At least I know it was in good condition."

Blaine nodded. "I polished it several times." The confession was enough for Kurt, or maybe it was the last drop for him to take his chances, and before he could decide which one it was, he already turned his head and forcefully kissed Blaine.

An incoherent noise was made against his lips as he took Blaine by surprise, but once he began kissing back it turned _perfect_. Kurt kissed needy and desperate and Blaine gave him exactly what he needed: comfort.

"Um," Blaine started after they pulled away, his lips shiny with saliva and a bit swollen. "Let's continue this at my house."

"Okay." Kurt realized then he was practically sitting in Blaine's lap already with his arms swung around his neck. "_Oh_."

"Exactly."

Scrambling up and adjusting their clothes, they walked up to Kurt's car without even talking, too buzzed about what yet to come.

Blaine's house was located just out of the centre of the town: a standalone house with a porch, painted in a light yellow color. Kurt didn't take the time to appreciate it fully, not with Blaine tugging his hand toward the front door and the realization he got the chance to ravish this man in a way he deserved to be.

He let lust take over the harder emotions, including the loss of the dresser and the stress of the past week. Instead he kissed Blaine as soon as the door closed behind them and tugged at his suit to take it off.

It wasn't until Blaine's jacket was on the floor and several of his shirt's buttons were open that Blaine cupped Kurt's face with his two strong hands and forced him to slow down.

"Easy," he whispered, their lips only an inch apart. "Take it easy, for me, okay?"

"Okay."

"Let's just settle first okay, before we do something hasty." They pulled apart, Kurt resisting the urge to huff because he wanted it to be hasty, quick and _hard_. Except Blaine already knew better – he knew what Kurt needed, and walked backwards into his house with the hope Kurt would follow. The change of plan also gave Kurt the chance to really take in the house, which screamed 'Blaine' from every corner of its vintage décor.

A huge golden framed mirror hung across a wall, making the house look bigger with its dark wooden floors and faded pink, almost white, walls. Countless shelves held old cameras, books and a few clocks. The only obvious modern things were the couch and the television, but the rest of the house could be used without a problem in a successful period series.

"Have you ever valued your house?" Kurt mused.

"Do you really want to discuss that now?" Blaine was standing in a doorway to probably his bedroom, shirt completely unbuttoned and showing a sliver of glorious skin. Kurt's mouth went dry at the sight.

"Not really."

"Good, come," he said while holding his hand out.

Blaine's room was just as cozy as the rest of the house, with clothes scattered over the floor, hanging out of drawers and on one of the closet doors was a rack of undone bow ties. The bed was big and messy, like Blaine left in a hurry that morning, and by judging the chaos in the room, Kurt presumed he did. Together with the other clothes joined Blaine's shirt all of a sudden.

"Kurt," Blaine said and he looked up to him sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless and shoes off. "Is everything alright? Is this – still alright?"

"Very," Kurt replied, shedding his coat and unbuttoning his shirt. "I love your house." Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but his eyes were focused on Kurt's fingers peeling away the fabric on his shirt and revealing his body. "I especially like your bow ties." He raked through them with his fingers like they were an instrument and held on to one. "But this one isn't vintage," he said, startled.

"What?" Blaine looked up with his pants already around his ankles, showing the tight black briefs he was wearing.

"This one." Smoothly he pulled the piece of fabric away from its brothers. "This isn't vintage."

"Yes, well, bow ties are a rage and vintage one tend to fall apart –" There was no opportunity to finish his sentence with Kurt pouncing on top of him and sending his back against the mattress.

"This one isn't vintage," he caressed Blaine's cheek with the fabric, "because I designed it." He went down to his lips, covering them with the fabric and enjoying Blaine's bopping Adam's apple a lot. "You have a Hummel bow tie, between your sixty year old ones."

"Y-yes?" Again his answer was cut off, this time by a kiss after Kurt threw the bow tie away. Hands roamed, clothing was removed and at some point Kurt's lips actually ached from kissing so much. He ended up on his back, perfectly displayed across the bed and Blaine hovering above him. Never in his life had he been treated so gently during sex. Never in his life had it felt so soothing.

"You're so gorgeous," Blaine said. For a good minute had he been sucking on Kurt's nipples until they were dark and hard, enjoying the noises Kurt let out thoroughly. The hand that had been sliding back and forth over his stomach to just above his groin also undid Kurt completely. "Can I blow you?"

Kurt was unraveling. "Yes."

The warm breathing moved lower. "Do we need a condom?"

"No." Wriggling his body to get in a more comfortable position, Kurt raised his arms over his head. "I get tested regularly." With his chin touching his chest he looked down to a fantastic sight of Blaine mouthing at his hipbone while ghosting his fingers over his stiff cock.

There was a soft blush on his cheeks while he confessed: "I don't have a lot of sex in this small town." Unexpectedly he grasped Kurt's dick and kissed the tips. "Actually make that zero sex, so excuse me while I savor this."

"Be my guest – _oh!_"

If Blaine didn't have a lot of sex, he had to be a natural at it. One way or another he knew exactly how to tear Kurt apart: taking him in whole, teasing his balls and bopping fast up and down. Kurt bucked his hips up and moaned loudly with his eyes closed, squeezing them tightly shut to ban out any kind of other feeling interfering with Blaine's eager mouth.

He no longer wanted to think about losing his mother's dresser again, or how he was going back to New York empty handed and especially he didn't want to think about leaving Blaine because eventually he was. And by eventually, he meant tomorrow.

"Hey," was whispered softly and closer than Blaine was before he closed his eyes. Kurt looked up to Blaine plastered to his side, leg thrown over Kurt's and his face at the same level as him. "Are you okay?" With his forefinger he lifted up Kurt's chin, leaning down to kiss away a tear on his cheek. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," Kurt assured. "But I want to, just –" There was something about Blaine's eyes that made him feel warm all over, not only because he was aroused.

"Just what?" Blaine kissed his lips lightly.

"Just…" He lowered his arm to cup Blaine's face, pulling him closer and returning his kiss. "Just stay close, please?" To his relief Blaine accepted his vague throwaway answer with a nod, rolled himself on top of Kurt and slowly began to grind against his body.

"I'll be as close as you need me to be."

"Then I need you closer." Wrapping his arms around Blaine's back, Kurt minimized the space between their bodies and bucked up to meet Blaine's thrusts. They grinded uninhibited, kissed messily and forgot about everything around them. All it took now was Blaine sneaking in his hand between their bodies, finishing it off with fast and strong jerks. Kurt quivered underneath him, his back arched up as he came before he met Blaine's lip in a hard, soaring kiss.

He remembered Blaine coming, remembered the panting against his cheek as he flopped down entirely spent, but he didn't remember drowsing away or getting cleaned. There was a memory of a kiss imprint on the apple of his cheek where Blaine kissed him goodnight, and with that subconsciously kissed him goodbye.

Kurt woke near midnight with Blaine cradled around him like some kind of octopus, which gave him the greatest trouble getting out. There was nothing left for him in Stayton, he realized, and needed to return to the real world. So with his heart dragging along in his body, Kurt got dressed and left the small yellow house that belonged to an amazing man with the affinity for bow ties and pocket watches, probably leaving him forever.

It was Monday in New York, and subsequently his birthday with his 'surprise' birthday party that afternoon. The office didn't really have the space to actually throw a party so throughout the shop, stations and drawing rooms were signs of balloons and other decorations. All his employees were annoyingly mysterious about his gift, dropping hints it's 'huge' and they went through a lot of trouble to get it.

Kurt himself didn't care.

During the entire trip home his mind was filled with Blaine and how he basically did everything for him, and how Kurt did nothing in return. Three days he had been in Stayton, only _three_ days and already he thought the Starbucks breakfast was nothing compared to Mimmi's, or when he got invited on his birthday to pick something out from one of his favorite colleague designers, he missed the smell of thrift shops. All he could say was that it was _crazy_ to feel like that after only three days of chance of scenery.

He was on the verge of just knocking his head against his desk when his assistant Ivy knocked on the door.

"Ready for your present, boss?" she said, practically gloating.

"As long no one takes embarrassing pictures of me."

"We wouldn't dare!" she fake-gasped. "We'll be filming it."

"I will fire all of you," Kurt groaned and accepted her arm as they walked downstairs to the shop.

"You wouldn't, you're too dependent on us. We could run this place without you!"

"_Happy birthday to you –_" drummed into the hall where they reached the store. "_Happy birthday to you!"_ His forty-head counting staff of store managers, designers, sewers and what else there was, were crammed in the boutique, singing to him gloriously. The song ended in fits of giggles, one of the store employees offering him a glass of champagne.

There were a few speeches that honored him with thank-yous and funny anecdotes during the building phase, making him blush furiously.

"Okay, I think it's time – we all pitched in, some more than others but we managed so don't worry that the store is going bankrupt, _but_ –" Ivy said, spreading her arms to the doors of the store and gesturing people should make way. "We searched long for you, so we know it means a lot –"

Kurt's breath faltered as the gift came fully in sight. There in the middle of his store was the very dresser he thought he lost forever for the second time. His mother's dresser in perfect condition with him, here in New York.

In his moment of shock he dropped his glass, causing murmurs from the staff.

"Is it the wrong one?" Ivy asked, panicked. Kurt didn't even reply and ran for it back to his own office, Ivy close behind him. "If it's the wrong one, I am so sorry – you left it open on your computer and you always spoke about the dresser."

"You were on the phone," he said, turning around. "You were the bidder on the phone."

"How do you know that? I asked an uncle, he lives in Maryland, to go for me – for _you_, how did you know I was on the phone?" Ivy didn't know, not that he could blame her, after all he didn't really told anyone where he was going or doing. "Kurt!" she yelled when he walked away again, slamming the door and stagger down against it. _What have I done?_

Weeks went by where Kurt would sit on his bed late at night and stare at his mother's dresser. He always had had the space for it, decorating his bedroom by memory to make it fit in perfectly. The hours he spent at the office were cut down, immensely even, so he could be alone with his thoughts or awhile.

It wasn't until Ivy called about the Fall Collection that he had to come in for a board meeting.

"And I thought we could focus on _dirt_ with the collection, earthy colors –" Zachary, one of his designers, pitched.

"Dirt, fall, how very original," he mumbled sarcastically much to Ivy's annoyance.

"Well, what ideas did you have in mind, Kurt?" Ivy shot back, knowing very well that Kurt was going through an inspiration dry spell.

All that had been going through his mind were Blaine, the smell of thrift shops and his mother's dresser. The smooth wooden surface of the dresser, Blaine's bow ties, the ancient pocket watch from the thrift store of that lovestruck dummy Andrea. An entire hall with valuable furniture, Blaine's enormous mirror with the golden frame…

"Antiques," he said, not even sure if he did it out loud.

The board was quiet for a minute before someone bravely said: "Like vintage?"

"No." He stood up to face the whiteboard behind him. "Antiques, wood, _furniture_ elements. Vintage that was never vintage, but more valuable – _antique_. Give me the pocket watches from thrift shops and make them _expensive_." Swiftly he turned back to the room, feeling stronger than he did in _days_. "Antiques, go with it – let it inspire you. Go to auction halls, not just Christie's but also the neighborhood auction hall where they sell porcelain teasets."

"Brilliant," one of his designers gaped.

Kurt's chest heaved in excitement before standing stiff abruptly. "I have to go."

"What, why?" Ivy's voice rose. "Where?"

"Get designing, send me drawings, but really," Kurt yanked his coat from his chair. "I have to go."

Leaving the entire board room in awe, he raced to get his things and yelled outside for a taxi, the last sentence he heard from the board lingering in his mind: "He's completely lost it." _Yes, I have_.

* * *

**Going Twice**

"Blaine?" Max, his auction help, called in the stockroom where Blaine was retouching a antique table.

"Yeah?" he called back with his tongue out in the corner in his mouth to focus.

"Someone's here to get a piece of jewelry taxed but only wants you to do it." Shuffled closer appeared Max next to him, holding out his gloved hand with something golden.

"Tell them to go to an jewelry shop, I'm busy." Ever since he got ditched he had became a lot snappier.

"Just give it a look?"

Sighing Blaine slammed down the cloth, changing his dirty glove for a clean one and impatiently held out his hand. With a soft tinkling the piece of jewelry, which turned out to be a locket with a pocket watch attached, fell into his hand and his mouth turned instantly dry. _He knew this_.

To be sure he went through the usual circuit, checking for a manufacturer or a year stamp.

"This piece is absolutely worthless," he concluded. "Made in the 2000's, I reckon 2010, fake gold, watch works on _batteries_ and probably once belonged to a teenage girl going through a vintage phase."

"Actually the owner is –"

"I know who the owner is," he said curtly, bumping into him as he passed Max to get to the front of his hall. The person he was looking for however wasn't waiting near the counter, instead he was on the same exact spot he met him for the first time.

Kurt Hummel was standing at the same place he saw him touch valuable antiques without a glove, smiling to himself, but not for long when he looked up to find Blaine there.

"Ah, mister auctioneer," he greeted awkwardly. "How much worth is my inherited pocket watch and locket?"

"Not even ten dollars."

"What a shame, I paid eleven."

"You said it was inherited." Blaine strode forward.

"I lied, backstories tend to weaken auctioneers." Kurt slid his hands deep into the pocket of his jeans. "Hi," he added.

"Hello." They hadn't seen each other for nearly a month and now there was a yard between them. "Why are you in Stayton?"

Kurt shrugged. "Someone told me this town was like a family, and if it is I'm the weird family friend who only comes twice a year to see if the town had something to offer him."

"Does it?" Blaine moved closer without realizing it, his fist still tightly around the pocket watch.

"Yeah, turns out he has a huge crush on the weird gay uncle with the affinity for bow ties."

"_Kurt_."

"And try as I might, I keep having the urge to see him." The distance was nearing just a foot now. "Even though last time I did something really stupid."

"You could have called," Blaine said brokenly. "I have a website, my phone number is _right there_. I went to your website almost daily but I didn't know if you needed space or if this was even something?"

"It was, _is,_ this is _something_, Blaine." He reached out to touch him, rejected when Blaine coiled. "Daily, huh? You went to my website daily?"

"Pretty much," Blaine muttered under his breath.

"Have you seen the announcement of the Fall Collection?"

Blaine bit his lip. "Well, I am a great fan of Hummel bow ties." _Even though I haven't worn one since_.

"It's you, you inspire me – this hall, this _town_ inspires me." This time when he reached out to put his hands onto Blaine's shoulders, he allowed him. "And if you'd like, I'd like to spend the summer making up for leaving without a word."

"Here?" Blaine's mouth twitched. "But New York - ?"

"My team is incredibly independent and only a phone call away." His smile was sweet and hopeful. "So, what do you say? Can we – can we give it a go?"

"I –"

"Going once?" Kurt teased, enjoying the way Blaine's body shook as he laughed. "Going twice?" Blaine sealed the deal with a kiss, his eyelashes sinfully long as he batted them.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I just told you!"

Nuzzling their noses together, Kurt's smile turned wicked.

"_Sold."_


End file.
